Street Rat
by Chalza
Summary: AU. Harry thought he was going off to his first day of elementary school, but his Uncle had other plans. Plans that involved finding an abandoned alley and dumping Harry off. What kind of Harry will be created from this rough life?
1. Prologue

_a/n_

_I went on a bit of a spree and deleted my other stories, they're still on my computer, but I really didn't feel like continuing them. After so long, I kinda lost the connection with them. Maybe sometime I'll rewrite some of them and repost them, but for now, I'm going to work on this one. I know this kinda story isn't an original idea, because I've read quite a few with this kind of plot, but I liked it so much, I thought I'd make my own._

**Prologue:**

Is it luck that controls our fate in the universe? If so, Harry Potter was a boy with bad luck as of age one. On that fateful Halloween night, Harry was left without a mother, father, and godfather. All that Harry Potter's luck spared him was a home with his magic-hating relatives who stuffed him in a cupboard.

At age five, Harry discovered that luck was not on his side. He was starting school with no friends, his cousin picked on him whenever given the chance, and _no_, he could not explain to his Aunt Petunia why his hair grew back after she cut so much of it off the night before. Harry, selfless as he was, accepted his ill-fate and was thankful for the small things, like the pencil his Aunt gave him—well, threw at him—for school. He stuffed his belongings in a plastic shopping bag to bring with him to school and waited in the hall for his cousin and Uncle to go to school.

"Come along Dudders, time for school," Harry heard his aunt twitter inside the kitchen.

"Yes, yes, Dudley, it's time to begin your fine education," his Uncle boomed, and his footsteps out of the kitchen were audible.

His Uncle Vernon threw a disgusted look at him, and walked with Dudley outside towards the car. Harry took that as an order to follow, and quickly scampered out after them.

"You get in the back, boy, and don't foul up my car, I've just washed it," were his Uncle's kind words to him.

Dudley sniggered at him and took his seat up front. The ride to the school was short and quick, and Vernon patted Dudley's head and wished him good luck. Harry reached to get out, only to have the car door locks click shut.

"You're not getting out here, boy," Vernon growled at him and started the car ignition.

Harry didn't say anything, but he wondered where he was going. After all, this was the only school in the area, and his Uncle surely wouldn't take him to a _different _school. Harry didn't say anything, he knew his relatives rule: no questions! Instead he gazed at the grey sky and waited patiently to find out where he was going.

His uncle was driving wildly into the uglier parts of the city and after muttering a few times to himself, turned into a dark road, void except for a dumpster, and stopped the car.

"This is your stop boy, get out," his uncle snarled at him, facing Harry in the back with a devilish look on his face.

"Uncle?" Harry asked bewildered.

"Get out!"

Harry did as he was told, and stepped out of the car. To say he was confused would be an understatement. But he was given no chance to ask questions, his Uncle revved up the car and sped off. Harry, unsure of what to do, put down his bag and sat leaning against the Dumpster. Only a few minutes later, the grey sky opened up and poured on poor, unlucky Harry Potter's head.

Harry didn't get up and roam around; he merely sat there, waiting patiently for his Uncle's return. He was glad for his plastic bag, because it kept his things moderately dry. Harry didn't think of the possibility that his Uncle wasn't coming back. He simply thought that it was some sort of punishment, maybe for his hair growing back like that.

"Well, well, boys, look what we 'ave 'ere," came a teenage male voice from behind him.

Harry, startled, grabbed his bag and scrambled onto his feet. Seeing the group behind him, he tried to back up, only to bump into another boy. The boy grabbed his shoulders and pushed him towards the leader. This little shove caused Harry to fall back down.

"Aw, let's play nice with the little urchin," the leader taunted.

Harry wanted to talk back, and say that he wasn't the urchin, _they _were. After all, they were clearly a homeless gang. Their tattered clothes and dirty appearances made that obvious.

"Can the little urchin talk? Come on, what 'ave you got to say for yerself?"

"I'm not an urchin," Harry ground out.

"Ah! So he can talk," the leader mocked.

"I'm just waiting for my Uncle," Harry tried to explain. "He's going to come back for me."

"Left you 'ere, did he?" The leader laughed.

Harry nodded, unsure of what else to do.

"Well then, it's safe to say he won't be comin' back," the leader finished. "So, yer on yer own!"

"No!" Harry cried out. "He'll be back! He's just punishing me."

The leader shook his head, shaggy hair flying around with him. "I'm sorry, kid, but when you get left in this part o' town, nobody's comin' back."

Harry sunk against the wall and whatever hope he had left flittered out of him. The rest of the gang shuffled around, unsure of why their leader was being soft.

"Jon, mate, we're not 'ere to give the kid pity, we're 'upposed to be getting him off our turf," a stocky boy said.

"I changed me mind, Kellan, 'e's gonna join us," the leader decided, "can't leave the kid out 'ere to starve, can we?"

The gang members shifted around extremely confused.

"But… Jon, wot's goin' on?" Another boy asked.

"Forget 'bout it, Eric, let's just take the kid and go home, I hate the bloody rain," one of the few girls in the group piped out.

The leader, Jon, shook himself out of the reverie he was in and held out a hand for Harry. Harry knew that if is Uncle were going to come back, he would have by now. So he accepted the offered hand and was pulled to his feet. Thus, Harry began his life apart from the Dursleys.


	2. One

_a/n:_

_haha, um, I didn't plan on getting much into Harry growing up, but it was just what came out. Soooo, we'll see. I honestly have no idea where I'm going with this, it'll be spontaneous. Reviews make me happy, I honestly didn't expect to get any and I loooove you people that did review, you make me jump for joy._

**Chapter One:**

Living on the streets was rough; there was no doubt about it. But for a seven year old Harry Potter, it was better than the home life that he knew. Although he was never physically abused, well, unless you count being forcefully moved into his cupboard, he never had the love that a family was supposed to provide. In the group that took him in, he was accepted, he had friends, and he had more food than the Dursley's ever gave him.

The ragtag group of kids lived inside an abandoned factory. Jon, the leader, was fifteen years old, and had been on the streets since he was six. It turns out that he was abandoned just like Harry was. He had waited in the spot he was left for a week. Many of the kids in the group were runaways coming from abusive families.

To survive, the group picked pockets, shoplifted, and occasionally, did an honest job. Harry didn't like to steal, so it was usually him that searched around for a job offer that didn't mind too much where the workers came from. Among making money and earning food, the group also had to defend themselves and their "territory." As it were, Harry ended up being an extremely skilled fighter. He used knives, but his small size and quick reflexes made him one of the best.

It was early August and Harry was off in London looking for the construction site that promised him two fifty an hour if he helped out. He walked along the cobblestone street, looking around defensively. This wasn't his territory, and he knew there were a lot of groups in this part of London that wouldn't hesitate to attack him simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Harry had a good reason to be suspicious.

Two teens, one male, one female, started following him; they had predatory looks on their faces. Harry quickened his pace, but they matched it, following behind him by about ten meters. Looking around, Harry couldn't see anywhere that he would manage to lose his stalkers. He avoided stepping into any of the fancy clothing or bookstores, and pushed into a dingy looking bar.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he wasn't followed. He looked out the windows and saw the two teens looking around confused.

"Hello there, son, what can I do for you?" The bartender asked Harry.

Harry shook his head, making his long hair part along his forehead. The bartender's eyes widened.

"Harry, Harry Potter?" He asked, astonished.

Harry assumed the worst, that this was some sort of child services and they were going to take him back to the Dursley's—or worse, to an orphanage. He had heard terror tales of orphanages from his fellows. They were dirty, poor, and abusive places. Harry wanted nothing to do with them. But Harry couldn't go back outside, the two teens were still there looking for him. Harry backed up towards the back of the cavern and quickly went through the closest door.

Back inside, Tom the owner was making some quick calls.

But Harry didn't care about any of this. He stood against a brick wall, near a trash can and waited in silence when a couple walked out the door and up to the wall. The couple was chatting amiably and ignored Harry standing there. Harry watched curiously as the man took out a wooden stick and tapped the wall. Gaping at the gateway that was once a wall, Harry took his opportunity and followed the couple through. He was awestruck with what he saw.

He had never had the chance to read fairy tales, but he knew that this place was surreal. He went unnoticed through the crowds, gazing at the strange stores and stranger displays. The crowds were beginning to unnerve him, as he felt more than once that he was being watched. He decided to go where there was less people; into his comfort zone, in other words, a dark alley by the name of Knockturn Alley.

The alley shops didn't have many customers at this time of day, their shoppers preferred to do their business at night when the regular folk weren't watching. The few people that were there were either business owners or beggars. Harry blended right in. He hid between two shops and waited to see who was following him. A man with grey hair, a wooden leg, and a crazy eye limped by, not really paying attention. Harry was sure this was who had been following him. The man stopped after a few steps and turned back around and left, muttering to himself about needing to put alarms on his trashcans.

Harry continued walking, looking curiously at the shops and their wares. Harry was sure that he hit his head and was dreaming. All of this was too weird to be true. He was so busy gazing at an odd glimmering stone perched in a storefront that he didn't notice a man walk up behind him.

"What are you doing in this part of Diagon Alley, boy?" A man's gravelly voice came out from behind him.

Harry jumped and pulled out a knife falling into a fighter's stance on a reflex.

"Woah, there, calm down, I ain't here to hurt you," the man spoke.

Harry took the man in, choosing to remain silent as it seemed more ominous if he didn't speak. The man had short grey hair, but didn't look old. He had a broad face with extremely bright blue eyes. He gave off a larger than life air, but was probably only around 5'8".

"Who are you?" Harry finally asked.

The man raised an eyebrow, "I should be asking you that question, lad. This isn't a safe place to be, though I don't doubt you're more than capable of taking care of yourself. But you see, it's going to be dark soon and that's when most of the… _folk_ come about."

Harry looked around, not quite sure of what that was supposed to mean.

"I don't know how to get out of here," he eventually replied.

"Ah… where are your parents, lad?"

Harry's face tightened, "they're dead."

"I see," the man responded, scratching his chin. "Well, who are you with?"

"Nobody," Harry answered. "I got friends."

"What's your name?" The man questioned.

"Harry."

"Harry…" the man said, more to himself than to Harry. "Would that be Harry Potter, then?"

Harry nodded, not liking where the conversation was turning.

The man chuckled a bit to himself. "Well then, lad, let's get you out of here, but let's chat a bit on the way."

Harry followed the man as he was led out of Knockturn Alley. The man explained to him all about his past, magic, and everything else he would possibly need to know. When they reached the bar Harry entered through—which he now knew was called the Leaky Cauldron—the man invited Harry to come back to his shop and learn a bit from him. The curious thing was, Harry never learned the man's name.

Harry quickly snuck through the now busy bar unnoticed and started running through London back to the abandoned factory that he called home.

"Harry, mate, where 'ave you been?" Asked Molly, or Molls as most people called her. She was the girl who "hates the bloody rain."

"I had a job, remember, Molls?" Harry decided not to tell anyone about magic for now; he didn't want them to think he was off his rocker.

"Ah, right, you like them honest folk," Molls laughed at him. "Well, Pete got our dinner today, fish, no chips left, and it's cold, but that's what you get fer workin' them hours."

Harry smiled at her and shook his head.

"Oi, Jon, Harry's back!" Molls shouted. "'E's been looking fer you."

"What for?"

"Oh, I d'know, you can ask 'im," and she skipped off to the others.

"Harry, mate, this fellow 'as been sniffing around 'ere," Jon began, "I want you to follow 'im next time he's 'ere."

Harry nodded, "What's he look like?"

"Brown hair with a bit of grey, shabby dress-like thing…" Jon ran off. "He doesn't look too dangerous, but well, the other guys aren't very sneaky and I don't want anyone to get 'urt."

"Alright," Harry agreed.

Harry was fond of Jon, he looked to him like the older brother he never had. Jon was only fifteen, but had been the leader of the group since he was ten. He was calculative and came off harsh to those who didn't know him, but he had a soft side for Harry because of their similar histories. Jon was a fierce fighter, he held knives, but preferred his bat. He was strong and the rest of the kids looked up to him. Harry was one of the youngest. Molls was thirteen, she was a cheerful girl and looking at her, you wouldn't think she came from a family with a drunk mother and a father who beat and molested her. Pete was eleven, he was a short kid and didn't like fighting; he was most useful in scavenging for useful little things and picking pockets. Eric, the stocky boy, was fourteen, he was an angry boy who ran away when he was nine, he never quite shared his reasons. There were a few others, Filly, who was also eight, Mark, who was nine, Angel, who was Molls' best friend was twelve, and Bill and Dill, twins who were ten. They were a tight knit group; there weren't many secrets between them and they all shared whatever they earned or stole. Today's adventure was Harry's first secret from the group.

Harry picked up some food from the "kitchen" area, or the only place in the factory that was kept tidy for the food. He grabbed a bit of food and sat on his ratty mattress to ponder today's happenings and his plans for tomorrow. He supposed he wouldn't have any work for tomorrow, since he didn't show up today. All he had to do was follow the man who was poking around the factory and teach him a lesson. And possibly return to that alley and visit the man in his shop. The others were beginning to drift off to their separate beds and falling asleep. Eventually, only he and Jon were awake. Jon was staring off into space, a habit he had when he thought no one was watching. Harry wondered what the boy was thinking about all the time, but didn't think much on it, and just went to sleep.

He woke up the following morning to pale sunlight and laughter coming from the twins. Most of the others were already awake, although if he had a watch, it would probably only be about six in the morning. Harry wiped at his clothes to get off the dust and walked outside, quietly searching the area for anyone poking around.

Harry stuck to the shadows and crevices creeping quietly like an assassin. Eventually he found what he was looking for, a haggard looking man wearing something that looked like a dress, just like Jon said. Then it struck him, this dress thing was what the people in that alley were wearing. He wondered what it meant. The man from the alley had told him all about being the "boy-who-lived," but what did that mean, besides the fact that he survived. He was a survivor; that was his life.

Harry pulled out two knives and crept up behind the man. He grabbed the man's arms and put a knife up to his throat.

"What are you doing here?" Harry questioned quickly.

"I—I, I'm looking for someone," the man gasped.

"Who?"

"Harry Potter," the man answered.

Harry stiffened, not liking where this subject was going.

"And _what_ do you want with him?" Harry growled.

"He's alive then?" The man sounded relieved—well, as relieved as a person who had a knife at their throat could be.

Harry let go of the man and backed up against the wall, confused at the rush of emotions he was feeling. He was confused as to why the man sounded so happy to hear that he was alive. He was scared, and he hadn't been scared in a long time.

The man turned around and looked at his attacker. "Harry?" The man asked, sounding weak.

"No!" Harry ran as fast as he could.

"He's alive…" the man whispered to himself. "Tom wasn't lying… James, I'm so sorry. So, so sorry…"

Remus Lupin mourned for his lost friend and then for the fate of his lost friend's only child. He didn't know what to do, so he apparated back to his cabin to figure out what to do another day.


	3. Two

_a/n__: thank you people **so **much for the reviews. **FaeryEars**-I love long reviews, so don't be sorry! And he won't forget his group, they're his family! **Wolfzmasterz**- I'm not sure who he'll be going with, rest assured that things won't be the same!_

_Please keep reviewing you guys, I love your input, just say if you like it/don't like it and what you would change! Or you can just review saying you read it!_

**Chapter Two:**

****

While Remus Lupin got drunk and mourned for all that he lost, Harry went searching for answers. The best place to look for answers was back in the alley.

Harry quickly retraced his steps in London and found the Leaky Cauldron. He wore a bandana over his scar so that no one would recognize him and quickly made his way out the back door. He waited by the wall until a big family of redheads came through. The group was chattering loudly and didn't seem to notice Harry waiting off to the side.

Once inside Diagon Alley, Harry was yet again enraptured by the strange scenes and quirky merchandise. He did not idle too long in the open, bright area and quickly made his way towards the shop in Knockturn Alley where he would find answers.

Harry stepped inside the dingy shop that the man told him to come to if he ever had questions. The shop was dimly lit and a bell tinkled as he walked inside. The shop didn't have many items sitting about. There was a shelf with a few books and a case with some old looking jewelry. But Harry assumed that there was more than just that for sale here.

Harry walked up to the counter and rang the little bell. The grey haired man walked up to the counter.

"I figured you'd be back, lad," he said as a greeting.

"Who are you?" Harry asked bluntly.

"Ah, I suppose I did forget an introduction last time," the man spoke slowly, picking at his words. "The name's Alphard Black." He held out a hand for Harry to shake.

Harry cautiously gripped the hand and shook.

"Well, my boy, what brings you here?"

"There was a man…" Harry began to explain what happened the other day.

"Curious," Alphard stated once Harry had finished. "Shabby looking robes? Grey streaks? Could be anyone, what precisely did he say to you?"

"He—he sounded relieved when he found out that I was alive, he asked to make sure and he seemed a bit distraught afterwards, he didn't put up a chase at all," Harry answered.

"Hmm, aye, perhaps he was Remus Lupin," Alphard pondered aloud. "He was an old mate of your dad's."

Harry looked interested, "What can you tell me about my parents?"

"Well, lad, I don't know much, only what my nephew told me," he began. "James Potter, your dad, was best friends with Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and… Sirius Black. They were close all through Hogwarts. Your father fancied Lily Evans for along time, but she, well, to put it frankly, she hated him. Eventually, around sixth or seventh year, she came to her senses, as I was told, and went on a date with him. From there, you can assume what happened, marriage, having you… Voldemort."

"What happened to the others? I mean, I've seen that one, Lupin, but where are the others?" Harry questioned.

"Well, the thing is, your folks knew Voldemort was after them, so they did the fidelius charm, which basically hides their location and is only known by a secret keeper. Their secret keeper was Sirius… well, he sold them out." Alphard looked lost in the story with a remorseful look on his face. "After Voldemort killed your parents and attempted to kill you, Sirius went after Pettigrew, no one really knows why, they just suppose he wanted to get the rest of his friends. So he killed Pettigrew, along with muggles that were nearby and he was caught. Taken off to Azkaban, never to see the light of day again… and here I thought there was one more Black that had some worth," he said the last bit quietly.

"They should have killed him," Harry muttered angrily. "What's Azkaban?"

"Wizarding prison, lad, a horrible place," Alphard answered. "It's guarded by the worst sort of beasts—dementors. They suck all the happiness and warmth out of a place. I suppose if you were around them long enough you'd go mad, driven insane by your sadness."

"He deserves it, then," Harry stated firmly.

"Does he?" Alphard asked. "Does anyone deserve to be near those things?"

"He does," Harry answered again, this time a little weaker.

"I suppose I can see why you would think that," Alphard replied.

Harry began poking around the store, "What's this?" He pointed to what looked like a fancy walking stick.

"A staff, lad," Alphard responded. "The stone is its focal. It's like an antique wand, so to speak, but much more powerful than your average wand. Most people don't like carrying them around now, why bother, when you can just have something a tenth the size? But there's bound to be someone out there who wants to buy it, a collector maybe."

Harry nodded and went back to looking around.

"Speaking of wands, boy, you ought to get one. For protection, you understand."

"How do I get one?" Harry asked, seeming excited about the idea.

"Well, normally I would recommend you purchase one at Ollivanders, but I don't suppose that would be possible… he'd question your age, name, and well, it wouldn't work out." Alphard discussed. "Hmm, perhaps… aye, it'll have to do."

"What?" Harry asked impatiently.

"I've a friend, he has a shop down here, he deals with illegal items, so I'm sure he could fetch you a wand," Alphard explained.

"What are we waiting for?"

"Alright then, lad, let's go look for him," Alphard replied.

The two walked down Knockturn Alley together, an odd group to the normal eye, but since this was Knockturn Alley no one took a notice. They both walked in silence. Alphard appeared to be thinking about something, and Harry was yet again, taking in his surroundings.

Alphard got a thoughtful look on his face, and turned right into a dark pub. Harry followed, confused as to why they were stopping at a pub. Inside, Alphard walked up to the bar, asked a few questions, and then walked towards a back room.

Harry walked closely behind him, not liking the look of some of the people in this pub. Most of them were hidden under heavy dark cloaks and those that weren't had extremely ominous looks about them.

Once inside the small back room Harry and Alphard sat down around a small table.

"Where's the guy we're looking for?" Harry suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

"He should be here any minute," Alphard replied not explaining much.

The two of them sat in silence for a few more minutes and then the door creaked open and in walked a short dirty looking man.

"Dung," Alphard greeted.

"Black! How nice to see you," The person, Dung, responded.

"Harry, lad, this is Mundungus Fletcher," Alphard answered Harry's unasked question.

"Dung, the boy needs a wand," Alphard told the strange man.

"Aye, and why doesn't he just go to Ollivanders?" The man questioned.

"Because this boy is Harry Potter," Alphard explained. "And we couldn't have Harry Potter just walking into Ollivanders demanding a wand, now could we?"

"No, no, I suppose not," Dung chuckled. "Well, wands are a tricky thing; if he doesn't get the right wand his spells might not work right… wands have to be compatible with the wizard."

"And what do you propose we do?" Alphard asked. Harry silently observed the conversation between the two, noticing Alphard's influence on this man.

"Well, I know a chap around here who could make him one, it would cost a pretty penny, mind you, but I suppose _you _could afford it, eh, Black?" Dung laughed to himself. "His name's Moyora, he's an ex-hit wizard, he makes wands, but not exactly the type of wands that Ollivander sells over there; he tends to experiment with 'em."

Alphard, looking irritable with the conversation, finally replied, "Just tell me where to find him, Fletcher, and I'll call us even."

Dung gave a twisted smile, "Go into Borgin and Burkes, talk to the owner about wands and have him take you around back. Outside his back door and down the alley you'll find a nice little building where Moyora stays and messes with his wands."

Alphard nodded and stood up, leading Harry back out of the pub. Harry remained quiet for a few minutes and then finally asked the question that was bugging him.

"Why does that man owe you?"

"I got him out of a fix with some Death Eaters a few years back," Alphard answered. "He's an idiot, but he has connections."

"We should wait until tomorrow to get your wand, boy," Alphard finally spoke. "It's getting dark, and I suppose you have a place to get back to."

Harry acquiesced and made his way out of the magical alleys, agreeing to show up again tomorrow morning. The sun had set once he got out into muggle London and there weren't many people wandering the streets. Because the streets were mainly emptied, Harry quickly noticed that he was being followed. Not just by the two people who were following him last time, but there were three more. Harry fingered his knives from their hidden spots in his clothing and quickened his pace, although he knew they would keep up. He didn't want to be the one to start the fight, if that's what they were there for.

Two more gangly teens came out of an alley in front of him and he was forced to stop about five meters away from him. Not long after, the other five came up behind him.

"Well, lookie what we 'ave 'ere," A girl crowed from behind him.

"If it isn't a street urchin," the boy who Harry assumed was their leader, mocked. "What're you doin' in our territory, scum?"

Harry remained silent.

"Can't talk?" This was reminding Harry of the time when he was first surrounded by Jon's gang, but instead of responding, Harry stayed quiet.

"'E's wastin' our time, let's just teach 'im a lesson and get goin'," Another boy finally spoke up.

Harry considered his odds; there were seven of them and one of him. It didn't look good. Harry was a good fighter, but he was still one person, they could easily overpower him. But Harry was no coward; he gripped his knives and fell into stance waiting for one of them to make the first move.

It was the boy who spoke last who decided to lunge forward first. Harry ducked under his fists and took the handle of his knife and hit the boy's temple, not wanting to kill him. One down, six to go. The other six circled him, trying to wait him out. None of the group had any weapons, but fists could be just as deadly as Harry's knives. Harry looked around, but saw no way of escaping.

The group ran at Harry and started trying to take him down. Harry quickly took down a heavyset boy who moved slowly and tried to duck and avoid the others' attacks. The two gangly ones attacked him from behind and got a hold of his arms, disarming him.

"Didn't your parents ever tell you not to play with knives?" The leader taunted. "Or maybe they told you not to pick fights with people bigger than you."

The two who held him tightened their grips to a painful point.

The leader took one of Harry's knives.

"I don't like kids who don't play nice," he gibed at Harry. "So… how will I punish you?"

The leader pretended to think for a moment and then quickly lunged at Harry with the knife. Harry felt a sharp pain in his stomach, but quickly started to feel detached. He noticed that he was no longer being held, rather, he was lying on the ground. Feeling around him, he felt something wet, he looked to where he was feeling and saw that it was red—blood.

Harry lay there until he passed out. Once he was unconscious a flash of light surrounded him and he disappeared only to reappear in the factory. His friends who were all back at home by that time were shocked, but quickly saw Harry's condition and decided that the only place to take him was a hospital—and quick.


	4. Three

_a/n_

Faery Ears_, haha, I feel the same way, I've always felt more inclined to review to people when they respond if someone asks a question or gives a suggestion. Along with what _wolfzmasterz _said about Harry being dark… I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this, but I've always loved stories with Harry being dark, and since this is an AU, I guess I could do that if it fell into place. We'll just have to see! _

_Thanks as well to: _Linwe Amandil, Anime Monster, druccillamalfoyrox, neostar, Sneere, Knot hole, Manny2003, _and_ Lone Angel.

_Like I said people, just review to say you read it, or give me suggestions or criticism! Anything!_

**Chapter Three: **

Harry's dreams passed by hazily. Sometimes he dreamt of people waving those sticks—no, wands around. Other times he dreamt of his friends and the fights that they've been in.

One dream stood out from the rest, it was night in the dream, and a family was sitting by a fire looking agitated, but happy to be together. It was an odd combination of emotions. The man was tall, wore wire-framed glasses, and had messy hair. Had Harry been in a better state of mind he would have realized that this man looked a lot like himself. The woman had long dark red hair and startling green eyes. The woman was cradling a peaceful looking baby with the same messy hair as the man.

They sat in silence; the man had his arm around the woman and was occasionally stroking the baby's cheek.

Without warning, the fire died and everything got darker. The man, with a look of sadness and determination, whispered to his wife to take the baby upstairs and get away, he would hold him off.

'Him?' Harry thought blearily, not quite understanding this dream.

The man stood stoically in front of the stairs and didn't so much as wince when the door was smashed open.

"Voldemort," was his greeting.

Through the remnants of the door walked a man.

'Was it a man?' Harry tried to think, but his mind was moving too slowly.

The _man _was wearing a black cloak and looked to be the very essence of evil.

"James Potter," he hissed.

"What did you do to Peter?" The father, James? asked.

"Do to him?" The evil man cackled. "Why, I _rewarded _him for his excellent service."

"You bloody bastard, you're lying," James replied through clenched teeth.

"Lying? Oh dear no," Voldemort seemed to be enjoying himself. "Pettigrew has been my servant for quite some time. The sniveling wreck practically threw himself at my feet."

"No!" James shouted.

"Enough of this idle chitchat, I have people to kill, prophecies to prevent."

James shook his head, not understanding, "Prevent? You're only doing what it expected!"

Voldemort didn't respond, instead he threw a curse at James.

James was wheezing in pain, but didn't move from his guarding spot. Without his wand nearby, James could do nothing; he only prayed that somehow Lily and Harry had gotten out alright. In a flash of sickening green light, James fell to the floor, dead.

Harry's ghostlike form followed Voldemort up the stairs. Voldemort seemed to know where he was going and opened the second door on the right.

"Foolish girl," Voldemort sighed looking at the woman holding her wand in front her, guarding the baby in the crib behind her.

"You needn't die, just move aside."

'What is this, chivalry?' Harry thought. 'He killed the man and enjoyed it, but he's willing to spare the woman?'

"No! Please! Not Harry!" The woman cried. "Take me instead!"

Fed up, Voldemort sent the green light at the woman; granting her the same fate as her husband. Finally, he looked upon the child and without looking into its eyes he sent the light at it too.

Instead of dying, like his parents, somehow a light surrounded the child and the curse was flung back to the now leaving Voldemort. Harry watched in amazement as the evil man fell to the ground and disintegrated. As soon as the man disappeared, a shadow flew towards the child and settled inside of it.

'How confusing,' Harry thought, before returning to his dreamless sleep.

* * *

Harry woke to a blinding light. He blinked his eyes a few times to adjust, and noticed sitting in a chair near him was Alphard.

"Gave me quite a fright, you did, lad," the man said upon noticing that Harry had awoken.

"Sorry," Harry responded sheepishly.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, the silence only being penetrated by the beeping of the hospital equipment.

"I had an odd dream," Harry finally told him.

"Hmm?"

"Well, it was—oh, I guess it was my family. I could see everything. I watched my parents die and I saw him try to kill me… there was a weird shadow thing after he died…" Harry tried to explain.

"Shadow?" Alphard snapped to attention.

"Yes," Harry slowly let out. "After Voldemort died, or, well, kinda disappeared, some shadow came out of his robe and flew into me, er, the baby me."

"Hmm, odd," Alphard pondered. "Maybe…"

"Maybe what?" Harry snapped.

"Well, maybe his powers were transferred to you, somehow." Alphard tried to explain. "But it would be kind of hard to tell."

Harry looked down, confused.

"Aha!" Alphard exclaimed. "I know just the spell."

Alphard muttered something, pointing his wand at Harry. All of a sudden, Harry's eyes rolled back into his head and he started seeing memories that weren't his. He felt emotions that he couldn't explain. To say he was confused would be an extreme understatement.

Harry watched a young beaten looking boy in an orphanage get a letter from Hogwarts. He saw the boy looking excited and innocent. He watched the boy grow into a man. He watched the innocence die with the knowledge that the boy craved and yearned for. He watched the boy delve into dark things. He learned everything the boy learned. He saw the boy become dark, doing evil things. A man named Hagrid… He saw the man do rituals that changed him, made him even more evil than before.

Then he passed out.

* * *

Waking yet again to the blinding whiteness of the hospital room, Harry tried to gather his thoughts.

"Ah," Alphard sounded sheepish. "I didn't know that would happen."

"What—what did you do?" Harry asked, still trying to regain his senses.

"Well, it was just a spell," Alphard tried to explain. "A dark spell, I suppose… I meant for it to break any memory blocks you may have had on you, but I didn't know _that _would happen. What did happen, by the way?"

"I saw, I guess it was Voldemort, his life, his experiences… his knowledge." Harry told Alphard various spells and rituals, along with bitter memories that came with it.

"How curious," Alphard sounded flabbergasted. "Voldemort isn't dead, but somehow you have taken in what seems to be part of his soul; if you could say he had one."

"His soul…" Harry sounded faint. "This magic stuff, it's confusing."

"Ah, yes, it's hard to believe that you grew up so far away from the world that adores you so."

Harry didn't reply, he seemed to still be trying to accept the fact that he had part of the soul of the man who killed his family. The reason he had to live with the Dursleys for those years.

"Well, I suppose you can leave this disgusting hospital," Alphard said.

"Hospital?" Harry was confused yet again. "Who took me to the hospital? I was in the middle of London, they… they got a cheap move in."

"Your friends brought you here, I believe," Alphard replied. "Don't know how they found you. Personally, I used a tracking charm when you didn't show up to get your wand."

"I was bleeding… they had stabbed me in the stomach," Harry began to remember why he was here. "How did I survive?"

"You were in critical condition when I got here, lad," Alphard responded. "They were amazed you had survived as long as you had, and were about to do some dreadful muggle things before I showed up and claimed to be your guardian."

"I just tidied you up with magic," Alphard finished, seeing that Harry didn't understand.

Harry nodded.

"So lad, we need to get you a wand," Alphard sounded chipper once again. "I must see what you can do now that you've, er, learned some things."

After a few memory charms, Harry and Alphard made their way out of the hospital.

"Lad, I'm going to apparate us into Diagon Alley," Alphard told him. "I don't feel like walking all the way there."

"Apparate?" Harry asked, but didn't get a chance for an answer, because Alphard grabbed his hand and Harry felt the world slip around him.

As soon as he opened his eyes, he was amidst the bustle of Diagon Alley. Alphard was looking at him with an amused look in his blue eyes.

"You'll get used to it lad," Alphard told him whilst he regained his footing. "After all, I'm sure if you sort through your new memories you'll find you know how to do it too."

Harry was surprised to find that he was right. Although the memories had passed in a haze, he could think back and find the experience Alphard was explaining. Eager to try something new, Harry apparated himself a few feet away. He had a look of intense joy on his face.

"This is _amazing_," Harry gasped.

"Let's go get you that wand, eh?" Alphard laughed.

Alphard led Harry down the dirty Knockturn Alley; Harry was beginning to get familiar with the place.

Alphard stopped in front of the store named Borgin and Burkes and stepped inside. A bell tinkled faintly as they walked into the musty store. There were items scattered all around, each looking quite ominous.

"May I help you?" Asked an oily voice from behind the counter.

Borgin—or Burkes, Harry didn't know which, was a middle aged man with slicked back dark hair. He was short and had a bit of a potbelly.

"I'd like to see a fellow about wands," Alphard told the man tersely. "Now."

The shopkeeper's eyes flashed with annoyance and he simply pointed to a door to his right.

Harry and Alphard quickly walked out of the door into a dilapidated back alley. It was lined by a few garbage cans, but was very narrow. At the end of the alley was a door into another building. They knocked on the door and waited for some kind of response.

The door was cautiously opened by a tall thin man with thinning hair.

"May I help you?" He asked in a raspy voice.

"Moyora, I presume," Alphard greeted in his overconfident tone.

"Aye, aye," The man looked back and forth between the two. "And what can I do for ye?"

"This lad needs a wand," Alphard answered.

"Ah," Moyora landed his piercing gaze on Harry, his eyes looking between the scars and the bedraggled appearance. "A challenge."

"Come in, come in," he waved them in and opened the door wider.

Harry and Alphard stepped inside what looked to be an average workshop. The only things that set it apart were the odd tools and even odder items that were scattered all over the place in no organized fashion.

"Well, well," Moyora looked excited. "The savior of the wizarding world is here for an illegal wand."

"More or less," Alphard responded, being elusive and giving Harry a glare that meant not to open his mouth like he had been about to do.

"Well, I'll see what I can find for the boy," Moyora began to walk around to various items and either nodded or shook his head and discarded it back to the floor.

"Come here, boy," Moyora finally said.

Harry walked up to the man, being careful not to step on any of the assorted things that were scattered everywhere. He kept a few feet between himself and the strange man.

"Hold out your right hand, palm down," Moyora ordered.

Harry did so, and quick as a flash, Moyora made a cut on Harry's palm collecting the blood that dripped from it. Harry was about to make a move, but Alphard placed his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Aye," Moyora seemed to be talking to himself. "Yes, maybe this should do…"

He stepped over to a workbench and gathered up a few sticks of oddly colored wood. He mumbled something with his own wand and the woods combined into one. Moyora then dipped his finger in Harry's blood and spread it on the wood.

"No one else can use it now," he smiled evilly.

He then chose some odd looking ingredients and said a choice few words and the things disappeared, apparently going inside the wand.

"Hmmm," Moyora was thinking out loud. "Basilisk venom will react with the acromantula web remnants, but perhaps… yes, yes, that should do just fine. I'll just add a bit of banshee hair, and ooohh, mayhap a bit of demiguise hair as well, hard to find, that… then I'll finish it off with the feather of a griffin!"

Moyora seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, no longer paying attention to the people watching him. He began to carve at the wand, giving it the hand grip. He also added some runes. Harry seemed to recognize them from Voldemort's memories for meaning protection, and the other, it seemed to block the expelliarmus spell. Harry watched, intrigued as the man finished putting spells on the new wand.

"Alright boy, come here and try it out," Moyora finally insisted.

Harry took a hold of the wand and felt a whoosh of power that no ordinary wand could give.

Moyora clapped giddily, "It's perfect!"

"How much?" Alphard asked, looking keenly at the wand.

"Ah, erm," Moyora seemed to think to himself. "Thirty galleons, I suppose. There are no tracking charms on it, the boy can use it whenever, no ministry officials will show up."

Alphard nodded, took out a bag of coins, and handed them to the man.

"Good day," he said, grabbing Harry's arm and leading him out.

"Aye," Moyora answered. "Come back anytime."

After leading Harry back through Borgin and Burkes, Alphard explained that he needed to go open his shop and that Harry should come back another day to work on his training. Although Harry had the memories, he mainly knew theory, spells required practice. Harry tucked his wand into a deep coat pocket and left the magical alley for his home at the factory.

* * *

He made it through London with no trouble, the other gang apparently not out looking for a fight tonight. As soon as he stepped inside the factory he was greeted by shouts from his friends.

"Harry, mate, 'ow did it 'appen?" Jon finally got everyone else to shut up.

Harry realized that they were talking about the fight from the other day.

"There were about seven of them…" Harry told the entire sordid tale to the group.

They nodded, accepting the story of the fight, although they were all looking at Harry oddly. Harry told everyone he was tired and went to lie on his cot.

Molls came up to him before he could shut his eyes for some sleep.

"'Arry, I don't know what's going on, but that was a creepy stunt you pulled the other day."

"What stunt?" Harry asked, unsure.

"You just… appeared!" She burst out. "A big flash of light, and there you were, lyin' there bleedin' to death."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, "I don't know…" was all he said.

Molls shook her head and left him to sleep. Sleep now proved elusive, though he was tired, because he needed to sort out his thoughts.

Harry spent much of the night awake, sorting through memories, trying to figure out what was going on. The main question he asked himself was "why me?"


	5. Four

_a/n__: Here are some replies!_

_ **alen:** I understand where you're coming from, but with all the memories that he received and all the new information that he had to process, it just didn't seem that important to him. It will eventually come out though._

_ **faeryears: **Tell me what doesn't make sense, because I probably haven't even noticed if I left some loose ends. Haha, I'm glad you like Molls, she's definitely the coolest of them all, that's why… well, you'll see!_

_ **psychiclunar**: Yeah, Harry was kinda vague in explaining the dream, but that part just hadn't come out as important to him, he didn't make the connection of Alphard's brief mentioning of Sirius being traitor to the conversation in the dream. It will come out though!_

_ **spacecatdet**__: It'll eventually come out, like I told some of the others, it just didn't stick out to Harry's seven year old brain that the name Peter might be important. But Harry will eventually figure it out._

_ **CharmsCharlie**: Does he seem Gryffindorish to you now? Haha, well, it seems to me what made him not want to be Slytherin in the books was how naïve he was, he didn't understand the goings-on of the wizarding world in the real book, so when Ron told him that Slytherin was the house of all "bad wizards" he believed him. He won't be so blindly trusting here!_

_ **WSX: **I didn't really consider it important to hide the location of the factory, just because the gang members are all muggles and Dumbledore wouldn't pull anything there._

_ Thankyou as well to: Chayia, lady sakura cosmos, shazia Born confused, Bobboky, Anime Monster, and Manny2003._

_I noticed a lot of people mention Sirius here, I promise, his innocence will be revealed!_

**Chapter Four:**

"Dodge!" Came Alphard's voice. "Move, damnit!"

Harry gasped as a curse went whizzing by his ear, having moved just in time. He fired back a few more, until he had to defend himself again. Sweat was beginning to drop down the side of his face, but he kept moving and kept sending spells.

"Alright, enough," Alphard finally announced; he had been losing, but he wasn't about to tell Harry that. Some of the spells Harry sent were so abstract that he didn't even know what they were.

Harry grabbed a towel to wipe off his face. He was now ten years old and probably knew as much magic as Albus Dumbledore. But Alphard insisted that he still had to go to school.

Harry now lived with Alphard full time. It had been hard to tell his friends that he was leaving them, but it was what he needed to do…

* * *

_Harry walked back through London, exhausted from hours of training. He felt like he was going to collapse in the street. He had decided the week before that he needed to change something. He was too magically drained to apparate, if he tried he would probably splinch himself. He discussed the matter with Alphard the other day, and it was decided that Harry would come live with him. It hadn't been an easy decision, but it was necessary._

_ After making it back to the factory, the others were waiting again, trying to pry out what he was doing._

_ "Guys," Harry began slowly. "We need to talk…"_

_ He told them about the wizarding world. It took a while to get everyone to believe him, a few demonstrations were necessary. He left out the less important bits—him being the boy-who-lived, Voldemort, things that he didn't think they needed to hear. _

_ As soon as the story went over, he tried to explain why he needed to leave. That didn't go over so well._

_ "You what!" Molls snapped. _

_ Eric looked down at the ground and walked away wordlessly. Pete kept asking him why. The younger ones were in awe of the magic, but didn't know what to say. It was Jon's reaction that hurt Harry the most. Jon looked at Harry with betrayed eyes, shook his head, and muttered that he should have known; Jon walked out of the factory that night, and didn't come back until after Harry left. _

_ The whole time Harry was trying to pack his measly possessions Molls was begging him to reconsider; telling him that if this magic was so great, he should be able to find a different solution. But it was useless. Harry left the following morning, with empty promises of coming to visit. Harry knew visiting would be too hard. He couldn't face Jon again. They would be better off without him, he decided._

_

* * *

_

If Alphard noticed Harry's momentary state of reverie, he didn't mention it.

"Harry, lad," Alphard spoke, knocking Harry back into reality. "We should get your school equipment."

Harry nodded, "what do I need?"

"I got a copy of the list from a friend, but I can't get you a ticket, you'll just have to sneak on the train, I suppose."

"That shouldn't be hard," Harry replied, leaning to the side, eyes glimmering with the prospect of tricking the headmaster. He could just imagine his entrance. Well, sort of, Dumbledore would probably get word of him being on the train if any students noticed him, but he could disguise himself… Harry kept thinking of the possibilities.

"Come on, lad," Alphard said, smiling at the boy who had almost become like a son. Of course, he had once thought that of Sirius…

He was shocked, after hearing at the hospital that Harry had a vision of his parent's death. He was upset too, for Harry, for a loss of innocence at such a young age.

Harry hadn't realized the importance of the dream. He knew, subconsciously, that it was Peter who did it, but he hadn't thought it important at the time. He had been in too much confusion from watching his parents die to truly realize the importance. So an innocent man stayed locked away, while a guilty one continued to hide, the rat that he was.

Harry and Alphard traipsed around Diagon Alley, going from the book store to the apothecary. Finally, the list only said one more thing: a wand.

"Fancy having a second wand, lad?" Alphard asked, somewhat amused. "I don't suppose you'd like to wave that one around; it might rattle a few people.

Harry smiled, "rattle people? They'd be quaking in their boots! Two wands… imagine what I could do with two. You'd never be able to disarm me again!"

"Not that it matters if I disarm you, eh, lad?" Alphard chuckled back. "You'd just tackle me down for it."

"I've been working on trying to summon it back," Harry wheedled, "but grabbing it from you is so much faster."

Alphard smiled at Harry's antics, "watch out, lad, someday this old back won't be able to take your beatings."

They walked inside Ollivander's. It was a musty shop, but a far cry different from Moyora's workshop. If Ollivander made his wands here, it didn't show; all there was to see was boxes full of wands.

"Ah, Alphard Black," came a soft spoken voice from behind shelves of wands. "I must say, I never expected to see you again."

Alphard didn't reply to Ollivander, he just pushed Harry forward a little.

"And who might this be?" Ollivander asked, peering at Harry and seeing only a brown haired boy with grey eyes and no scar. Glamour charms worked wonders.

"My nephew," Alphard replied, not offering a name.

Ollivander smiled at the boy and asked which arm was his wand arm.

"I'm ambidextrous," Harry answered; years of using dual knives made his left hand just as efficient as his right.

Ollivander didn't show any emotion, though he was surprised, he simply began measuring. Measuring arm length, finger length, hand length, nail length… it went on for ages until Ollivander walked back and plucked the measuring tape away from Harry.

"Well, let's see…" Ollivander began to pluck boxes off the shelves and carry them up towards the desk.

"Ash, unicorn hair, 9 inches, rather flexible," Ollivander declared.

Harry grabbed it and swished it around, but there was nothing. Ollivander snatched it back.

"How about this one? Rosewood, dragon heartstring, 11 inches."

Harry tried waving this one around too, and again, nothing.

This process went on leaving a few broken windows, rattled shelves, and dented floors in its wake. Finally Ollivander relinquished the phoenix feather wand for Harry to try. A wind gathered up around Harry, spinning like a tornado and he was the heart of it. Black and grey sparks shrouded him.

When the spectacle stopped, Harry looked into the astonished face of Ollivander.

"Oh, how frightfully curious," he barely whispered. "The brother wand… and the same reaction…"

Ollivander finally shook himself out of it and told them the total. Harry muttered something about old men who are off their rockers and don't know when to retire, and he and Alphard went back home.

* * *

On the morning of September the first, Harry woke up feeling surprisingly nervous. No, he wasn't scared of trying to sneak places—that was his life. He just didn't know what to expect. It all seemed so final; he was leaving for a boarding school. He wouldn't even have the option to visit the gang if he finally got up the courage to do so. Courage? Harry laughed to himself. He was being a coward.

Harry checked the clock to find out that it was only five thirty in the morning. He decided to prove that he had some courage, once and for all.

He quickly checked that Alphard was still sleeping and he apparated to a secluded point outside of the factory. He walked inside nervously; he didn't know how they would react to seeing him now, after all that time. It had been years since he left them. Harry looked around. Everything looked normal; the cots were in their place, most unmade, there were a few things lying around. The only suspicious part was that everything was coated with dust. What had happened? If they had moved, they certainly would have cleared everything out and taken their things with them, but this… Harry didn't understand.

Harry walked around, poking at things to make sure they were really there. He wiped the dust off of Jon's cot. It was Jon he had needed to see, he needed to apologize. He needed to make it up to Molls. All of them had placed their faith in him as a friend and he had failed them. Now, when he finally found it in him to try to make amends, they were gone.

Harry's attention was caught by some hissing in the area of where his cot was. He was momentarily surprised that they hadn't gotten rid of it. On his bed was a very large snake. Harry took a step back out of shock. The snake flicked its tongue out, tasting the air.

"This was your nest?" It hissed at him.

Harry was startled, "yes, that was where I slept."

"I mean you no harm, child," the snake spoke back.

Harry, in the meantime, had never spoken to a snake before. But when he thought about it, he realized that Voldemort could speak to Nagini, so the ability must have been passed on, along with everything else.

"What…" Harry tried to ask, "What happened here?"

"You mean to the rest of the fledglings that lived here?"

Harry nodded, no longer trusting his voice.

"They all left in a hurry," the snake tried to explain, though he understood little of the situation. "They grabbed their sharp things, and their big wooden things, and they left."

Sharp things…? Harry thought to himself about it. So they ran off with their knives and bats.

"I'm sorry," Harry shook his shaggy head. "I need to go for a walk and think about this."

Harry started to leave, only to hear the snake tell him that he was coming too. The snake slid its way up around Harry's neck. Harry tried to ignore the added weight and walked out of the factory.

He walked down the empty, rundown streets, not knowing or caring where he was going. He had to think about this new information. They were in some sort of fight, obviously, but with whom? And why? Harry knew other gangs liked to start fights, sometimes over nothing at all, but wouldn't they know better than to get involved? Harry ended up in the alley that Vernon had left him in all those years ago. He slumped against the dumpster, trying to keep his mind from thinking of the worst.

He was snapped out of his pessimistic thinking when he heard a groan coming from inside the dumpster. He jumped to his feet and stared at the dumpster. Again, the groan came. Harry cautiously pulled open the lid and was met by an extremely unpleasant smell. Harry peered into the dumpster and saw the battered body of what looked like a teenage girl.

Harry, the nice person that he was, reached inside and hefted the girl out of the dumpster and laid her on the ground. Checking that no one was coming, he healed the girl with his illegal wand. The other wand had all of the registrations done on it, and if he were to use it, the ministry of magic would swarm him.

After the girl was healed, she blinked her eyes in confusion.

"I thought I was dead," the voice was familiar.

"Molls!" Harry gasped.

Her eyes finally focused and she stared at him with an extreme intensity.

"'Arry," she breathed. "It's been a while."

"Molls, what happened?"

"Ah," she winced a bit at the memory. "It was those dolts from downtown."

"A fight?" Harry probed.

She nodded weakly, "there was nothing we could do, we 'ad to fight them. Eric 'n Pete tried to defend the younger ones. They never did 'ave the knack for fighting that you did at that age… but…" she shook her head. "It was carnage, we were so outnumbered, and well, we never were much of a fighting group. The police showed up. By then, the other gang had pretty much won, Pete and Eric were down… dead, I guess. Those…" she tried to think of a word to aptly describe what she thought of the other gang, "They killed everyone! It was just Jon and me left, I—I had been in shock, y'see, they 'ad just stabbed Angel in the back, those lowdown, two-faced, pieces of… ergh! They started beating me up afterwards, and then the cops came, and… oh 'Arry, they saw Jon hit the other gang's leader in the 'ead, and… they shot 'im!"

Molls seemed hysterical by this point and she could no longer go on with the story. Harry just hugged her and told her that everything would be fine. Molls eventually insisted she was fine and said she was going back to the factory to collect her things. She told him she had an Uncle who she thought might take her in as long as she made herself useful.

"Molls," Harry sounded sad. "I promise you that I'll see you again, I'll visit you, I swear."

"Don't feel bad, 'Arry," she sounded regretful. "I know it's botherin' you, what 'appened to Jon, but 'Arry… he cared for you. He missed you. It was 'cos of 'im that we kept your cot. He'd sit there, thinkin' to 'imself. There were no 'ard feelin's."

Harry didn't know what to say.

"He was like the brother I never had," Harry smiled bitterly. "He had every right to get angry the way he did, I, I abandoned him."

"No, 'Arry," she protested firmly. "You did what you 'ad to do, Jon understood that, he just didn' want to admit it."

Harry shook his head, "I'll never know, will I?"

Molls did what any sensible person would do in this situation: she hit Harry upside the head.

"Stop mopin'," she finally told him. "Get on with your life, it's what 'e'd want."

Harry laughed, "I'll miss you, Molls."

"Yeah, yeah," she smiled back at him. "You just remember your promise; I expect my visits. Oi, don't forget Christmas presents, and birthday presents too!"

* * *

Checking the watch that Alphard insisted he keep on at all times, he saw that it was 10:50. Harry was most definitely in trouble if he didn't hurry. 


	6. Five

_a/n__: Sorry about the wait! I hope you'll all keep reading even though it's been such a long time._

_Responses (a lot of them)!_

**_Potterfanforever_**_: Longer chapters? Well, I'll try, they're steadily at around 3000 words for now, but I promise I'll try to get them a little longer than that. As for playing dumb, trust me, he will, it wouldn't be very smart to advertise the fact that he has all of Voldemort's memories. _

**_Woflzmasterz:_**_ I won't forget about Molls, she's too cool. As for being a witch, well, you never know…_

**_Padfoot's_****_ Fire: _**_Well, she's a bit in denial about the deaths, and as for the fight and being beaten up, it's nothing she isn't used to. Being on the street subjected her to a lot of that, also, coming from her family background, she was abused by her father, so the only traumatic part of the ordeal was the deaths and she isn't quite facing that. Plus, she's seeing Harry, who she hasn't seen in a long time!_

**_Shadowed Rains: _**_Fifty years of memories is quite a bit, isn't it? Well, he doesn't exactly remember what Voldemort doesn't remember, I mean, he's not going to really remember the child years. Hopefully a bit of what happens in this chapter will explain more of how the memories work. They're there, but not quite there… That's why Sirius hasn't been cleared yet!_

**_Linwe_****_ Amandil: _**_Aw, I'm glad you thought it was touching. It does seem as if he's going to be dark… well, he isn't the same Harry he would have been if he had stayed with the Dursley's, he's had a rough life, probably worse than what Voldemort himself lived. _

**_D.T.F:_**_ Well, we'll hear more about them. Remember that Molls was busy in her own fighting and didn't get an accurate view of _everything_! But that's all I'm going to say about that!_

**_Rosiegirl: _**_It does come off a bit like unfinished business, doesn't it? Well, we'll see, he'll be able to make amends somehow._

**_Japanese-jew: _**_Yeah, when I was thinking of who to make the man Harry met (that's why I didn't introduce him right away) I thought about Sirius, my favorite character, and then I thought about one of the few other Blacks that were supposed to be "good." I'm pretty sure Sirius said he was dead (something about an inheritance), but well, that's why it's AU. I hope you like this story as much as you liked the other one with Alphard!_

_Thanks as well to: **Anime Monster¸** **The Great Morgoth,** **Charms Charlie, DebsTheSnapeFanNow, shadow of the black abyss, manny2003, mental.girl.on.sugar, HarrySlytherinson, azntgr01, VainFirechild-EverSoVain, knuckz, Lightsaber209, Sarah R Potter, and DesiDude. **_

_Sorry again about how long it took for me to get this chapter up. And remember, review! If you give me a long review with suggestions or questions, I'll make sure to give you a response!_

**Chapter Five: **

Rushing was one word for what Harry was so aptly doing at the moment. If you wanted to have a fuller idea of his actions, you could say he was hurrying, or pacing with all due haste, or simply moving his arse as quickly as possible to Platform 9 and ¾. All of his concerns and thoughts were pushed aside by one thing: if he missed the train to Hogwarts, Alphard would kill him. No—not kill him, _torture _him. He figured his belongings could be shrunk and sent by owl, but he needed to get on that train!

Getting on the train wouldn't be Harry's problem; it was getting to the train before it left that would be difficult. Harry could apparate, but Platform 9 and ¾ is in the middle of a muggle train station.

'Oh well,' Harry thought to himself, 'what other options do I have?'

Harry, out of view, used his illegal wand to disillusion himself and the large snake that was draped around his neck. Once he was satisfied that the muggles wouldn't notice him he apparated to King's Crossing.

He didn't apparate into the middle of it—oh no, people would bump into him. He managed to appear beside several trashcans on the outside. He crouched, still unseen, behind the many garbage receptacles and removed the disillusionment charm from himself. He made sure to leave it on the snake, not many muggles would take well to seeing such a large snake on the eleven year old boy.

Harry casually stood up and brushed himself off behind the trashcans. He no longer dressed like a street urchin, but he still had the air of one, meaning many people looked at him scornfully. It was as though he was one of those boisterous kids that every good muggle family disliked.

Harry checked his watch again, it was 10:56. He let out a sigh of relief that he hadn't missed the train. He walked over to the area where Platform 9 and ¾ would be and stared at it, realizing he hadn't asked Alphard how he was supposed to get through. Was there a spell? Harry scrunched his eyebrows together in annoyance; this was taking too much time! Harry suddenly had the foggy memory of a young boy doing the same thing he was. The young boy wasn't late, but he was alone and did _not_ like asking for help. The young boy ended up casually waiting a safe distance from the platform, he watched several people inconspicuously lean into the wall and disappear.

Harry shook himself out of the reverie. These strange memories kept popping up. The last time had been during a duel with Alphard. Harry had been losing and was being cornered into a wall. His memory was of a useful spell that Harry then attempted and successfully threw Alphard to the other side of the room. Needless to say, Harry didn't always trust the memories that he acquired, he planned, after that, to make sure to watch what the spell actually did before using it.

It seemed that these memories only came up when he really needed them. It was like his own memories; he'd need to be thinking of something that reminded him of what happened for them to appear. Whilst he had all of Voldemort's mind, so to speak, most of it needed something to trigger him to remember it.

Harry wanted to hit himself; he didn't have time to think! He followed what was done in the memory and slowly leaned into the wall. He found himself on Platform 9 and ¾. Immensely relieved, Harry rushed to the back of the train, he was moving quickly, but slowly enough to not attract peoples' attention. Harry looked at the back entrance to the train and stared at it, hoping for some sort of inspiration.

No time to be creative, he decided, and stepped up onto the train. He could have just stayed outside, holding onto the side of the train, but that wouldn't be very comfortable. Instead, Harry looked around for prying eyes and once sure that there were no people around, he cast several glamour charms on himself. He was now a blonde boy with short hair and a snub nose. He looked very prim, he joked to himself. He clicked open the lock to the back entrance of the train and walked inside to what must have been some sort of storage. Inside was an assortment of brooms and other supplies, perhaps for an emergency.

Harry made his way into the normal section of the train and searched for an empty compartment. None were empty and the train shuddered to a start and Harry was stuck in the hallway with nowhere to sit. Sighing, Harry made his way into a compartment with only two other people. A bushy haired girl with buckteeth and a nervous looking boy were sitting opposite each other. The bushy haired girl was talking and using wild hand motions as though trying to describe something. The other boy was nodding warily, but appeared to be thinking about other things.

When the girl appeared to take a moment to breathe, Harry slid open the door to the compartment slightly.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" He asked, trying to be polite, something he wasn't used to doing.

The boy looked over and nodded as if to say, go ahead.

The girl, after taking in his appearance, introduced herself as Hermione Granger, first year.

Harry smiled at her introduction and quickly thought of a name, "I'm Jon, I'm a first year too."

Harry internally winced at the first name that came to the top of his head. He decided to sit down next to Neville, as he seemed a lot less likely to hit him upside the head with his in-depth hand motions.

Eventually, Hermione subsided with her chattering about what she thought the sorting would be like, and she settled back down to read the Book of Spells Level 1. Harry almost snorted out loud at the title, but decided that overtly displaying his knowledge would be a bad thing to do. Harry settled back and thought out what he was going to do once they reached the school. He didn't have his robes, obviously, so he was going to have to pretend to leave and get his things and just not come back. He wouldn't be able to leave from the back of the train, because someone was bound to notice the door open, even if he made himself invisible. After thinking about it for a while, he realized he would have to wait for everyone to leave and get off the train last—hopefully before it started moving again. He presumed all of the means of transport would be gone by the time he got out, but he didn't mind, he could find another way to get there. He had… other ways of getting where he needed to go. Of course, walking into the great hall once everyone was already seated would be _quite _amusing.

Whilst Harry was planning things out, the boy next to him was fidgeting and going through his things. Eventually the boy sighed and deflated.

"Have either of you seen a toad?" He asked in a quiet boyish voice.

Harry was snapped out of his thoughts and he shook his head.

"A toad?" Hermione asked.

The boy nodded solemnly, "Trevor, he's my pet."

"Well, Neville," so that's what his name was, "I'll go around and ask people if they've seen him."

With that, Hermione got up and left the compartment.

"I'm sure he's around here somewhere," Neville sighed. "Where could he have gone?"

Harry wasn't sure if he was supposed to respond, so he stayed silent. Instead, he looked out of the train window and watched the passing scenery.

Eventually Hermione returned saying she couldn't find him, but she was sure he'd turn up somewhere. Neville looked quite upset and stared out the window for the rest of the trip. Hermione went back to her book, and Harry wondered how he was going to send a letter to Alphard.

There was a warning saying there would be five minutes until they reached the station, and Harry excused himself saying he needed to get his robes to change.

He walked to the back of the train, in the storage room that he had been in before. He waited as he felt the train screech to a stop. He waited as he heard the chatter of the students as they walked off the train. He waited for a few minutes of silence. He opened the back door of the train a crack and looked out for any lingering people. No one. Just as he had decided to get off, the train started chugging into movement. There was no time to waste; he pulled the door all the way open and leaped off the moving train.

He rolled to a stop on the grass beside the station. Everything was going according to plan; well, maybe not, he accidentally left the back door of the train open and he could hear it swinging back and forth. Oh well. Harry looked towards the dirt road that led to Hogwarts. There was a large gate guarding the entrance, but that was no problem. He supposed it would be locked, but still, no problem.

Harry took off his glamour charms, and was glad at the moment that he had wand holsters and he kept both wands with him at all times. He would hate to show off his better wand, someone might take it away. He now looked like himself. At eleven, he was lean muscled, average height for someone that age, and had his same shaggy messy hair. But adding to his slightly wild appearance was the scars. He had many, many more than any other person his age. His were not the scars that normal children get, he didn't fall off his bike and scrape his knee, he was a street rat, and street rats get in fights. The most noticeable of his scars was of course the lightning bolt down his forehead. It refused to fade. He had many other deep unfading scars along his arms, some on his chest, and only a few on his legs.

Harry gazed at the impressive castle. He very much wanted to fit in there, but knew it was unlikely. He was too different, too renowned. Harry snapped out of his thoughts and concentrated for a moment.

Within seconds, where Harry Potter once stood was empty. He was gone.

Well, unless you had seen death before. Then perhaps you would see that where Harry Potter once stood, now stood a thestral. A black horse with large wings; people thought it to be a dark creature merely because those who could see it had seen death. The odd thing about this thestral was that, unlike its fellows, it had green eyes instead of the natural red. The horse pawed the ground and began to flap its wings until it picked up enough momentum to rise off the ground.

Harry loved his animagus form. It was the one magical endeavor that he didn't tell Alphard about. Alphard knew all about his research spells, the memories that popped up at the wrong times, his potion experiments, but this one thing, this was his secret. Harry flew gracefully towards the castle, not bothering to rush. He wanted to really cause a stir. That was the Marauder in him. He landed in front of the castle doors and changed back into his human form.

Harry brushed the dirt off of his long ratty grey coat, the one piece of clothing he kept from his life on the street. He had to keep it; it was the one thing that Jon really went out of his way to get him. Normally Harry shied away from the subject of Jon, but this was a memory of the happier times and he couldn't seem to let it go.

Harry finally pushed open the huge doors and walked through the empty entrance way. He could hear the chattering voices, but they abruptly went silent. Dumbledore was speaking.

"—Oddment, blubber, tweak." Was all of Dumbledore's speech that Harry heard as he pushed open the doors to the Great Hall.

Suddenly, all eyes were fixed on the strange boy at the door. Harry was amused, but he tried not to let it show.

"Sorry about that, got a bit sidetracked," Harry finally spoke through the silence.

Dumbledore was staring at Harry with confusion and a little bit of relief. Meanwhile, the silence had ended, and all of the children were whispering to each other, trying to figure out who this mysterious person was.

Harry, realizing that nothing was going to be done in a timely manner, started walking up towards the head table.

"What are you doing here, filthy street urchin?" A hostile voice hissed.

Harry looked impassively at the speaker, a blonde boy with slicked back hair. He kept walking. Once again, the great hall was silent save for the catlike steps of a boy who had slipped through shadows all his life.

He stopped in front of the head table and looked at Dumbledore with an annoyed expectant look on his face.

Clearing his throat slightly, Dumbledore finally managed words, "Alas, we have one more sorting before you can begin your meal—Harry Potter."

Hearing this, Minerva McGonagall stumbled to her feet and retrieved the sorting hat from the side room.

Whilst she was getting the hat, Dumbledore spoke to Harry in a voice that only he and the teachers nearby could hear.

"Harry, would you please wait after the feast is over, I would like to speak to you alone."

Harry nodded, knowing what this was going to be about. At least he had time to prepare excuses.

McGonagall placed the hat on Harry's head—it seemed to fit right in with the rest of his shabby outfit. Harry waited patiently, sitting on the stool.

_'Ah, Harry Potter,' a wizened voice spoke into his mind. 'I had hoped I would be seeing you soon.'_

Harry was a little shocked and confused, but not outwardly so.

_'Such an unusual mind,' the hat spoke, more to itself than to Harry. 'There are the memories and personalities of two different beings within you; different, yet parallel, so alike.' _

_ 'You have not lived a happy life, Harry Potter,' the hat continued. 'And yet, through your troubles, you remain pure of soul.'_

_ 'Your soul… it was broken, but the broken piece was replaced with that of a piece of another's soul. How curious.'_

_ 'I always knew Tom Riddle would go on to do amazing things. Not good, but still amazing. His mind was hungry for knowledge and power.'_

_ 'Not quite unlike yourself…' _

Harry vaguely wondered how long he had been sitting with the hat atop his head.

_'You already have the knowledge and power, unlike he had at your age.'_

_ 'Ah, but I've been sidetracked, I must choose a house; it has been a long time since I've delved into a person quite so extraordinary as yourself.'_

_ 'You seem to have many of the traits the houses look for. You are hungry for knowledge, but it is already there for you, waiting for you to find it in your mind, I'm afraid Ravenclaw would not do.'_

_ 'You are loyal and fair, as Hufflepuff would require, but you lack the patience that house would look for.'_

_ 'Slytherin… the house you seem to have a strong connection to. Perhaps that is because of the foreign soul residing in you. It is drawn to the house of Slytherin, but your personality, let's see… you're cunning and intelligent. You could be great there.'_

_ 'Gryffindor, the house of your parents. You are brave, like many Gryffindors. But something is missing—nobility. It seems that you, unlike a Gryffindor, would not hesitate to take a sneaky step necessary for getting what you wish for.'_

_ 'Perhaps, then, you must go to _Slytherin.'

The Great Hall was silent. Dumbledore looked at the Boy-Who-Lived in wonder and slowly began to clap. Not long after, the other professors joined in, and eventually the entire student body was clapping, albeit somewhat hesitantly.

Harry removed the sorting hat and handed it to a flabbergasted McGonagall.

He slowly walked over to the Slytherin table and took a seat at the very end, he seemed unbothered by the fact that the students sitting near him began to scoot away. He simply began to eat the food that had magically appeared on the many platters on the table. He would think about what to say to Dumbledore and how to get his letter to Alphard after he had eaten—he was famished.


	7. Six

_a/n__: Sorry about the wait, I used to be so good with updating stories, but I've been slacking off with this one. School starts next week, so I really hope I get around to updating in good time. If I don't, write me a review yelling at me. _

_Responses!_

**Anime Monster: **_Haha__, yeah, that was pretty smart of him. But who can really expect someone who spent their life on the streets to be responsible? He never had to be on time for much else before._

**DebsTheSnapeFanNow: **_Yeah, really, who wants a saintly hero. I can't even imagine Harry being as good as he is had he really stayed with the Dursley's, like in the book. I would have thought that would make him even more bitter, but it's JKR's book, so she can do what she wants._

**CharmsCharlie: **_Of course! He won't just sit there and let what he believes to be a future-dark-lord-in-the-making get away like he did with Voldemort. He has no idea what kind of person Harry is, and with the way Harry reacts to Dumbledore, he's sure to try to stick his crooked nose in things._

**ivan the terrable: **_To be honest, I haven't thought much about Quirrell. I guess he'll have to eventually stop him, but this story isn't going to follow the track the book took._

**Malach: **_The__Snape-Harry interactions will be different. Harry will be a bit bewildering to Snape, because after all, Snape expects a James Potter mirror image, and well, what he got isn't quite that. I'm not sure if Snape will trigger any of Voldemort's memories, but we'll see!_

**wolfzmasterz: **_I haven't decided if he's going to have more. He's bound to have some abilities that we don't all know about yet, but as for multiple animagus forms, we'll just have to see what comes up._

**GoddessofDestiny419: **_I wouldn't go so far as to call Jon nice. He certainly wasn't a mean person, but the reason he decided to help Harry, rather than beat him up, as they had originally planned, was because he saw a bit of himself in Harry. He was sympathetic to his situation, but Jon can be pretty moody and reclusive. He has a lot of secrets… hehe._

**ProphecyProtector: **_Haha__, aw, where would you have put him? I mean, I guess I could have done something crazy like put him in Hufflepuff, but he just didn't really fit there. So Slytherin it was._

**Karaii: **_Aw, it isn't the best one out there, trust me, there are a bunch. I guess a lot of the authors haven't gotten very far in the stories, but there are some really well written ones out there. But I'm glad you like mine as much as you do!_

_Thanks as well to: _**DesiDudeNever Odd Or eveN, azntgr01, Black Padfoot, lady sakura cosmos, Dumbledork, Manny2003, shazia Born confused, A-man, phoenix catcher, mental.girl.on.sugar, Eowyn23, knuckz, hplver, Sarah R Potter,** _and_ **HevenSentHellBroken.**

_Right, here we go!_

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Six:**

'Well, that was boring,' Harry thought to himself after listening to Dumbledore's concluding announcements.

The Slytherin prefects asked all first years to follow, but Harry had to wait for Dumbledore. He vaguely wondered how he was going to find his way to his common room, but didn't let it bother him much. If all else failed he could cozy up in a random hallway, he had slept in stranger places before. Of course, it wouldn't do for his classmates to find him snoozing against the wall; he didn't want to stand out too much at first. Though he doubted that was even possible.

Harry was removed from his musings by the presence of Albus Dumbledore standing over his shoulder. Dumbledore slightly cleared his throat, which Harry took as a message to follow. Once Harry stood up, Dumbledore began walking out of the Great Hall. He walked surprisingly fast for a man his age, but Harry easily kept up.

As they walked through the castle, Harry took in his surroundings. It truly was a medieval castle. It was beautiful. The magic was everywhere, seeping through the crevasses between the bricks, swirling around the suits of armor. Harry yearned for some time to himself just to inspect the magic. It was practically alive; there was so much of it. The castle, even without the magic, would be extraordinary. It took all of Harry's self control not to just stop and stare.

Dumbledore kept his gaze straight ahead as he walked towards his office. Harry wondered what questions were milling through the old man's head. He'd soon find out.

The two of them stopped in front of the statue of a gargoyle.

"Fizzing Whisbees," Dumbledore said with all seriousness.

Harry gave the old man a look that clearly said "I don't know what drugs you've been taking, but get it together!" If Dumbledore saw the look, he chose to ignore it.

The gargoyle hopped aside with Dumbledore's strange words and the two of them walked up the stairs and into the strangest room Harry had ever seen. Along with all the curious instruments lying around, there was one of the weirdest looking birds Harry had seen. Somewhere in his head he knew it was a phoenix, creature of the light. No wonder the bird had refrained from trilling when its master walked into the room. Harry was not an epitome of light. While at the same time, he was not a dark wizard, he had no desire to purge the world of those with less "pure" blood.

"Well, Harry," Dumbledore began, "I'm sure you know why I asked you here."

"I'm not quite sure I do," Harry responded cautiously.

"I would like to know why you ran away from the Dursley's and what happened after that point."

"Why I _ran away_ from the Dursley's?" Harry growled.

"That is what they told us," Dumbledore answered.

Harry narrowed his eyes. This conversation was not starting the way he wanted it to, he couldn't afford to lose his temper, he needed to keep up his Occlumency. He was calmed by the a slight hissing by his ear. This did not go unnoticed by Dumbledore, who curiously looked around.

"Why not tell me your version of events, Harry."

"Don't call me Harry," he responded. "That's a name for friends."

"Of course, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore answered, his demeanor dimming slightly.

"They threw me out," Harry answered the previous question. "He dropped me off in an alley and I'm sure the whole family thought good riddance."

"I see," Dumbledore seemed to digest this information. "What did you do after he abandoned you?"

"A family took me in," Harry was now answering in monotone, his emotions were cleared.

"A family, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore responded dubiously. "It certainly doesn't look like you were in the care of a family."

"Maybe not a traditional family, but they were more family to me than those relatives I was forced to live with."

"I'm sorry you had to deal with all of that, Harry."

Harry didn't answer, he simply yawned.

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore caught himself. "It's quite late; shall I lead you to your common room?"

Harry shook his head, "I asked someone for directions before the feast was over."

Dumbledore nodded, but knew that Harry spoke to no one during the feast.

"Good night, then."

Once Harry was out of Dumbledore's office he was free to think as he wanted. He knew his answers did nothing to assuage Dumbledore's curiosity. Dumbledore would be keeping a close eye on him, perhaps using other people to watch him as well. Or even the castle. Harry looked around at the amount of magic in the walls. The pictures moved, he noticed that on the walk to Dumbledore's office as well.

Once fully out of view of Dumbledore's office he took off the disillusionment charm on the snake. It was a magnificent snake, it was white with yellow markings on it, but its head was black. That, and it was about the same length as Harry was tall; which, at eleven, was about five foot two.

"What is your name?" Harry asked his pet.

"Siobhan," the snake hissed back.

So it was a girl, "that's a pretty name."

The snake curled a little tighter around Harry's neck, but in a comforting way. It wasn't very heavy for a snake its size, but Harry was also surprisingly strong for one so small.

Harry had no idea where he was going; he was wandering through the pitch black castle. With the amount of exploring he did at night, he was able to see his surroundings slightly, but he had no clue where to go for the Slytherin common room.

Harry was stopped at a split in the hallway, there were two different directions, he had no idea where to go and he was getting tired. It had been a long day. He still had to write a letter to Alphard and maybe one to Molls as well, she could use some cheering up, or at least a friend.

Harry's eyes were getting heavy, he blinked a couple times to keep them open. A fog came over him—was he dreaming? No, this was just another memory.

_Three boys were walking down the hallway, Harry was in the middle. _

_ "So Tom, what did old Slughorn have to say to you this time?" The broad one on the right asked in an awing voice._

_ "He was complimenting my essay on vampires," his voice was soft and had a pleasant timbre to it. "He said it brought up points he hadn't heard in a long time."_

_ "Nothing but praise, eh?" The tall one on the left joked._

_ Tom did nothing but smile, he wasn't going to mention that his essay focused on the power and greatness of vampires and that he wrote that they would be valuable allies and that the Ministry was foolish for condemning them. _

_ The group took a left in the split hallway and stopped not long after at what appeared to be a normal patch of the wall, but with a closer look you could see the outlines of an opening. The broad one mumbled a few words and the wall split open…_

Harry shook himself out of it. He followed the hall on the left and stared at the blank wall. He had no idea what to say to get it to open.

Harry sat down next to the door and waited. After about an hour of nearly dozing off there were soft footsteps coming down the hall. Harry squinted into the darkness and saw a tall man with a hooked nose walking down this direction. When the man noticed Harry his eyes widened, but he showed no other shock.

"What are you doing out at this hour?" The man practically spit at him.

"I had a meeting with Dumbledore and I forgot to ask what the password was," Harry answered. He was in no mood to get in an argument with this man; he was just too tired.

"The password is Salazar," the man stated, finding no fault in the story, but he continued to glare at Harry.

The door opened when the man said the password.

"Well…." Harry paused. "Good night."

Harry walked inside without waiting for the man.

'Oh,' Harry thought to himself. 'I don't even know which room to go in.'

Fed up with searching, Harry walked over to a couch and lay down and slept there.

* * *

Harry woke up with dawn. Well, he would have been up with the sun if he could have _seen _the sun in these dungeons. But somehow he just knew it was morning. No one else was awake, but he figured he may as well get up and start exploring anyways. He couldn't find Siobhan, but she could take care of herself. Well, maybe he should worry about everyone else, but his snake would be fine.

Harry took a good look at the common room now that there was light enough to see it. It was gloomy. There were no other words for it. Gray stones, dark green décor, it was just dark and dreary.

The school had to have something better to look at. What he really wanted to do was get outside and take a walk in that forest. Forests always had some sort of allure to Harry. Maybe it was the fact that everything was so wild and uncontrolled; there was a beauty to that.

With that plan, Harry left the common room. The idea that he didn't know how to get out of the castle didn't occur to him. He just started walking by instinct. He knew he had to write a letter to Alphard to get his things, but he'd do that later. Maybe he'd write one to Molls too, after all, she could use a friend right about now.

Before Harry knew it, he was at the front doors of the school with no idea how he got there. Once outside, he took a good look at the forest in the distance. It was dangerous, no doubt about that, he was certain Dumbledore said something about not going into it during the end of the feast, but he hadn't really been listening. The tall trees and ominous darkness were signs enough of what could possibly lay inside, but Harry wasn't scared. Lying before the forest was a cabin, a lake, and an extremely strange looking sports field.

The sun had barely risen, so Harry decided he had a good two or three hours to waste before he'd have to worry about getting to breakfast. With that, he began briskly walking inside the woods.

It was beautiful. How could Dumbledore forbid the students to go inside? Harry marveled at the natural scenery. There were flowers, vines, the tallest trees he'd ever seen, so many plants the he couldn't recognize. He wasn't on any path, he preferred to see nature as it was without being trampled and changed.

All Harry saw of life was small animals and woods. Nothing that looked remotely threatening. But of course, Harry knew that just meant that there was something lurking deeper inside. Not that the thought of danger made him turn around, in fact, it was exhilarating. As Harry walked, he picked up a plant or two, just to have; maybe he'd put a preserving charm on a flower and send it to Molls. She'd like that.

Thinking of Molls made Harry think of Jon. Was he dead? Molls said he was shot, but he was strong, he could still be alive somewhere. After all, Molls didn't expect to live, but there she was. He really wished he could find out if Jon was still out there somewhere. He owed Jon his life. If Jon truly was dead, that would be hanging on his conscience forever. There must be some way to find out.

Harry kept walking, keeping note of how far he'd gone and how high the sun had risen. He'd have to turn around soon. He hadn't yet seen any reason why students shouldn't be allowed in the forest. Maybe it was a night danger. Harry shrugged and turned around.

Harry snagged his coat on a tree branch as he turned around. Aggravated, he tugged it off and got a cut on his hand. Harry looked at the blood dispassionately. He was no stranger to blood, it didn't bother him anymore, whether it was coming from himself or someone else.

As Harry was walking back, he heard something following him. He didn't change his pace or look back; he just kept walking with that awareness that there was something in the distance. As it started getting closer, Harry kept his hands near his daggers. Whatever it was couldn't be violent, otherwise it would have attacked by now.

Harry stopped when he felt that it was only a few paces behind him. When he turned around he almost laughed. It was a thestral—he must have attracted it with his cut. This thestral must have a strong nose, as he had only cut himself lightly.

Harry walked up to it, keeping eye contact. He pat it on the head and thought about the reason he could see them. Death was no stranger to anyone living on the streets. He had seen more than his fair share of the ending of peoples' lives.

_He had only been six. He had only been living with Jon and co. for a little over a year. He had been kept away from the fights before then, but he was still given daggers and taught to use them by Jon himself. But this time Harry had been out with Jon, Molls, and Pete and they were cornered. Harry tried to back away and stay out of it, all of the people attacking were so much bigger than him._

_Pete, Jon, and Molls were all having a hard time. There were two people for each of them. It was Molls who ran into trouble, one of the guys started making comments at her and the other one grabbed her and she couldn't move. Harry didn't think, he just acted. He took out his daggers and stabbed the guy holding her in the back. _

_Once released, Molls took care of the other guy, gave Harry a thankful grin, and went to help Pete. For the rest of the fight, Harry just stood and stared at the boy he killed. He couldn't have been older than fourteen; did her deserve to die? Did any of them? He didn't talk to anyone for a week. After that, whenever he killed someone he refused to look at the body afterwards. _

The thestral looked at Harry with knowing sad eyes and licked his cut. Harry smiled sadly at it and gave it a final pet and walked back to the school.

When he got inside the Great Hall, it was crowded. People were whispering and pointing at him as he made his way to the Slytherin table. This time, at least, no one scooted away from him. He found himself sitting next to a dark haired girl who held a quiet aristocratic air, but didn't appear to be arrogant.

"Good morning," she said in a polite voice.

"Morning," Harry replied out of respect.

He put some food on his plate and looked up at the head table. Dumbledore was staring at him. Perhaps hoping he'd make a friend? Dumbledore attempted a small smile when he realized Harry was watching him as well, but Harry kept a blank face and looked back down at his food.

Blaise passed him his schedule as it came down the table, but made no further attempts at conversation. Harry was relieved with this, because it left him to his own thoughts.

For one, where was Siobhan? He really hoped she hadn't killed or maimed anyone, after all, that wouldn't help his reputation much. Next he wondered what he was going to do in his classes when he didn't have any of his books. He didn't think his teachers would punish him much, maybe the stricter ones, but it wasn't necessarily his fault. He lost track of time, that was all. Maybe he had time to write Alphard a quick note before his classes started, or a firecall would work…. well, he'd have to get to work quickly. His schedule said that his first class began at eight; it was probably around seven thirty. If he ran, maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to get his things on time.

With that, Harry ran for the first place he could think of with a fire. Back to the Slytherin common room. The directions came easy to him this time, he had no trouble making his way back. Of course, what he didn't expect to see was a blonde boy with slicked back hair lying unconscious under his snake.

'Oh dear, this isn't good,' was what Harry thought to himself.


End file.
